Angels Amoung Us
by oldshowaddict2015
Summary: Movieverse. Kind of a CO between Jersey Boys and If I Stay. The Four Seasons get into a wreck on their tour, and rushed to the hospital. The others are okay, save for a few broken bones or cuts, but Frankie is on the brink of life and death. His soul is roaming free from his body, and he watches the people he loves crumble at the thought of losing him. Will he stay, or will he go?


_A/N: There will be character death, so obviously this is Alternate Universe. Got the idea from watching the movie If I Stay, and I hope you guys like reading this as much as I will enjoy writing it. I've only seen the movie, so I only know of John Lloyd Young as Frankie, Erich Bergen as Bobby, Vincent Piazza as Tommy, and Michael Lomenda as Nicky, so in my head this is who I'm picturing.  
>I will also regularly update this as I have for This Is My Story.<br>Enjoy! And no flames!_

Chapter One

It was supposed to be like any day on the road. Tommy was snoozing on the bed in the back of the bus while Bobby had his feet propped up, reading a good book. Nicky tuned his guitar and when he wasn't doing that, he was drinking some wine.

Me? I just relaxed. Didn't have much time to do it, but when I did I relished every moment of it.

That all changed when some idiot hit our tour bus. I remember only a few things, including how time seemed to slow down after we were hit, but then everything went black.

It was kind of a floating sensation.

Nicky, I saw after opening my eyes, was unharmed. He broke a window in the bus and crawled out while Bobby groaned quietly.

"Nicky, where the hell are you going?" he snapped. Nicky looked in through the broken window. There was a gash on his face, and his jacket had some blood on it, but that's all I could really see.

"To get help, where the fuck do you think I'm going? You guys just stay put." He hurried away.

"Well what do you think we're gonna do? Run a marathon?" Tommy groaned. "Shit, I think my ankle's broken."

"Well, how does it look?" Bobby moved a little in his seat, which caused him to whimper a little. Tommy looked down at his ankle.

"Well it's the right one, and the last time I checked I didn't have two left feet."

Bobby finally turned around. When he saw the injury, he turned a little paler. "Oh, God..." he turned back around. "Frankie! How're you?"

"I'm hanging in there." I said.

"Frankie! He's talking to you." Tommy said, in a fatherly type tone. But worry was masking his voice.

"Yeah, and I answered him!" I snapped.

"Shit... Maybe he's passed out." Bobby whispered. I stared at them.

"Hey. Didn't I just fucking answer you?" I got up from where I was wedged between the seat and the small table and started crawling my way towards them, but then stopped. I didn't feel any pain. Maybe I was unharmed like Nicky was. But even he had to feel _some _pain, didn't he? I saw Tommy turn a little and his mouth dropped open.

"Gaudio. He's stuck."

"Stuck where?" Bobby tried to turn around.

"In between the table and the seat. And I'm telling you, it doesn't look good."

"Well get him." Bobby's breathing was a little shallow.

"Seriously?" Tommy's head whipped around and he stared at him. "Do I look like I'm in any shape to get someone out from being stuck? No, I didn't think so."

"Sorry..." Bobby winced and shut his eyes tightly. "I just... Forgot."

"Yeah, uh huh." Tommy snarled. I sighed, looking back at myself to make sure I wasn't seeing things.

Sure enough, there I was. It looked like I was sleeping almost, and it would've fooled anyone if they weren't really looking at my head, where the blood seemed to be flowing from my temple and down my forehead. My left arm seemed like it was broken, as did my leg. _Well that would slow the tour down considerably_, I thought to myself, my dark humor coming out from the dark recesses of my brain. I rolled my eyes and looked back at Tommy and Bobby. Bobby looked like he was about to pass out, and that was starting to worry me just a bit. He was as white as a sheet and his dark brown eyes were a huge color contrast to his face whenever they were open. Another major contrast to the paleness of his face was the gash on his cheek caused by one of the shards of the windshield. He kept his arm around him, almost like he was trying to hold himself together. His cardigan was ripped a little and the book he was reading was about five feet away from him. His black pants seemed to be a little darker around his left knee, which I knew probably had to be blood. His right leg was bent at a sick angle. You didn't have to be a doctor to tell me that it was broken.

Tommy, on the other hand, was taking in deep breaths through his nose and exhaling through his mouth, trying to keep himself calm. He kept himself propped up on one elbow, since his other arm was pretty much sliced to hell. I could've sworn I saw a few shards glinting in the light a little, but that also could be from the small shards from the road as well playing a trick on me. The only broken bone he seemed to have was his ankle, which he didn't mess with too much. Smart move on his part. After all, why would you want to hurt yourself more than you already are? Nevertheless, Tommy was a little pale and looked nauseous from the pain. Sweat was forming on his brow and his face was contorted into one of pain and nausea that I've only seen in movies.

In the background, the faint noises of sirens were heard.

"Oh, thank God..." Bobby shut his eyes again and groaned a little as he spoke. Not five minutes later, the two of them were being hauled out, carefully, by trained EMTs. Tommy was saying something that I couldn't make out. I hurried out of the broken window, since the bus was upside down and a little smashed together, which made moving almost damn near impossible. Looking around, I saw the glass shards on the ground and heard another window break as the last EMT went to try and get me (at least my body) out. I looked for another vehicle, but there wasn't one. So it had to have been some kind of hit and run. Maybe a crazy Beatles fan or something, I don't know.

The air reeked of what was a sickening mix of what I thought was sulfur and gasoline. I scrunched up my nose and covered it, the smell making me sick to my stomach.

"Hey! Hey! Careful with the ankle, asshole!" Tommy snapped as they got him into the ambulance.

"I... I... I..." Bobby started to speak but passed out, his arm still around his chest. The EMTs worked to get him back to consciousness as they strapped him in. They started to close the doors and leave, so I took my chance and hopped on with them as my body was hauled onto a separate ambulance. I didn't even want to look at it. I'm sure I had to have been beat up pretty badly. I heard Tommy cursing in Italian as the ambulance drove off to take us to the hospital. The EMTs ignored him and went about doing their jobs. They made sure that he wasn't moving around a lot, and same goes for Bobby, but when we hit a bump in the road, Tommy started cussing left and right.

"God damn son of a fucking bitch! Fucking pot holes!" he turned paler and the look of pain swam back onto his face again. He started cursing in Italian for the second time as Bobby came to. He automatically began to groan and shut his eyes tightly.

I was just praying that everything would be fine.


End file.
